• A huge blow to his ego and several to my head land us both in hospital
Image: JOHN CHESOLI
Poor fella, he looks so broken. He still doesn’t approach me, content to cradle his ‘precious’. I use the chair next to me for support and attempt to stand up.
“Which healthcare provider do you use?” I ask.
He says nothing.
“Tell me! I want to call for help,” I say. He looks at me with pure hatred in his eyes but he tells me. I do a quick Google search for the number and call them. I let them know there’s an emergency and they need to get to his office pronto. Chris is still writhing on the ground.
“Tell them I’m a platinum member,” he says. “They’ll send a chopper.”
I relay the information and they ask for a card number.
“Wallet …” he says weakly.
I move towards him and he flinches. I raise my hands palms forward.
“I’m just getting the wallet,” I say.
I reach into his pockets to search for his wallet. I find it in the back pocket. I sift through the cards until I find the right one. It’s taking a lot out of me. I go back to the phone and read out the numbers but they keep getting jumbled up, dancing before my eyes.
“Are you ok?” the lady on the line asks me.
“I have a head injury,” I tell her.
“A chopper is on the way! Are you a member, too? Ma’am? Ma’am?”
I’m distracted. I can see the contracts that Chris had signed earlier. I look over to him. He has passed out, still holding his Johnson. I’m not too far behind. I reach for the contracts and stuff them under my clothes, held up by my bra. I’m sliding to the floor, I can’t stay upright a second longer. The lady on the line sounds fainter. Those blows to my head won’t let me remain conscious for much longer.
“Ma’am could you tell us what happened?” she asks. “Ma’am???”
“I bit his dick off,” I say. I’m not sure if I say it out loud or in my head. I pass out.
When I come to I’m in a hospital somewhere, the bed is unmistakable. It’s a private room. I wonder if they think I’m a platinum cardholder, too. My head is bandaged. I’m wearing a hospital gown. My contracts! A nurse comes in.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says. “How are you feeling?”
I try to speak but I’m parched.
“Thirsty?”
I nod and she pours a glass of water for me.
“How’s Chris?” I ask.
“The gentleman you were brought in with? He’s in surgery,” she responds. “They are attempting to re-attach his eh, well… you know.”
So I wasn’t dreaming. I did bite his trumpet off. I wonder if they have called the cops yet.
“Oromandibular dystonia is a terrible thing, you poor girl,” she continues handing me the water.
“Oro … what?” I ask, taking the glass and downing the water.
“Your condition. The doctor will tell you more about it when he comes,” she says as she takes the glass.
As if on cue, the doctor walks in. He is short, a little plump and has a pair of glasses perched on his stubby nose.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Thirsty,” I say.
He nods to the nurse who pours me a second glass.
“You must have many questions,” he says.
Actually, I’m wondering why they don’t have questions. Like, why did you try and bite that man’s penis off? Also, why hasn’t anyone called the cops? Or are they outside? I want to ask but the nurse mentioned that I may have Oro-whatever, so I’m going to keep my mouth shut until I learn more.